Kimochi
by L.C. Li
Summary: The old Order wasn't the only thing that Shen and Zed fought over. Zed, Akali, Shen.


_**(A/N: This is one of my favorite pairings (love triangles?) in League of Legends, period. I loooove them. There's so much interesting stuff you can look into.)**_

* * *

**kimochi**

::-::

**i**

"Okay, it's Rena's turn to be the Disturber!"

"Nuh-uh! I did it yesterday! It's Kennen's turn!"

"But I did it the day before! And you haven't done it for the past week, besides yesterday!"

"But—but—Shen!"

Six pairs of pleading eyes whipped to the single child that was currently sitting cross-legged on the nearby hilltop, palms extended skyward and eyes fixed on the nature before him. He didn't even seem to hear them.

"Sheeeen," Rena whined. "Tell them I shouldn't be the Disturber."

"Sheeeen," Kennen whined. "Tell her she has to be the Disturber."

Shen's eyes slipped to Akali, who was the unofficial leader of the ragtag group.

"Without the Disturber, there isn't any need for us to Restore Balance," she said.

Shen turned to Kennen and Rena. "Then, why don't you both be the Disturbers?" he said calmly. "You can work together."

Kennen scowled. "But it's Rena's turn!" he protested.

"And I'm not working with Kennen!" Rena added.

Shen's eyebrow twitched—the only sign of his annoyance. It was well known that he was practically guaranteed to be the Eye of the Twilight... a fact that the children abused to no end.

"I'll be the Disturber!"

All eyes swiveled down the beaten pathway as an unruly boy swung down from the trees, an eager grin stretched across his face.

"Oh, now you wanna play?" Faren scowled. "Thought you was gonna 'meditate' like bo-oring Shen!"

Akali batted Faren over the head. "Stoppit," she commanded. "We need a Disturber, and Zed was nice enough to offer."

Faren rubbed the back of his head and turned his scowl on Akali, but kept his mouth shut.

"'Kay, Zed," Akali said. "You get ten seconds to do something really really bad, and then we will deliver the Kinkou's justice to you!"

The other ninjas cheered, gathering behind Akali. Zed only grinned.

"Can't deliver justice to me if you can't find me!" he roared, and raced away. A train of five children sped after him, squealing and waving their arms.

...The sixth remained behind.

"Might wanna run after them," Shen suggested to Akali. "Or you'll miss out on the justice."

Akali only tilted her head and examined him. "Are you lonely?" she asked.

Although Shen did not budge, Akali could tell that he was taken aback by her question.

"Why?" he said evasively.

"Looks lonesome, sitting out here all by yourself. Don'tcha wanna play sometimes?"

"Can't," Shen said. "Father says I must meditate till I understand the secrets of nature and find my inner peace."

"Bo-oring."

Shen stiffened visibly. "'S why I told you to go play," he mumbled.

"You're not boring," Akali said. "Your job is."

Shen blinked, as if he'd never heard that before. He probably hadn't.

"C'mon," Akali said. "Come play! Just for a second. I won't tell." A smile flickered across her face. "And I'll make sure no one else does either."

Shen's fingers curled in the grass, but his face was carefully blank.

"I hafta meditate."

Akali grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him up.

"No you don't. Let's go!"

She ran towards the other kids, pulling him along. As she did so, she failed to see a pair of red eyes, glinting sadly from the treetops.

::-::

**ii**

Shortly thereafter, Shen joined the ragtag group of ninja playmates. It became something of a game, almost, to see how well they could protect him: Akali would elect a Watcher, who would warn the group when an adult was coming—and as they were passing by, Shen would pretend to meditate while the children would pretend to ignore him.

Even outside of these playdates, Akali, Shen, and Zed were inseparable. Whether it was training, relaxing, or even mischief (often due to Zed), they stuck together.

But, of course... things couldn't stay that way.

If Zed had to pinpoint a date where things started going wrong, he would choose the day where both he and Shen came up with the same idea. That should've already sent up some warning bells—they never agreed on anything. But when Shen came to Zed one day, and Zed came to Shen, and they both blurted, "We should do something for Akali!", neither wanted to refuse the other, so they began searching at once.

Not one week later, Shen found it. When he showed Zed, even his normally neutral eyes were glittering with excitement.

Zed agreed. "It's perfect," he said, and that day and the next, they toiled beneath the beating sun in preparation.

Finally, they were able to bring Akali. It was a beautiful morning—sun shining, birds chirping, everything peaceful and bright—and they led her there, only allowing her to open her eyes once they were absolutely certain that she had the best angle.

Akali did, and witnessed the fruits of their labor: A beautiful lake, cleared of all autumn leaves and hardened summer muck, surrounded by a grove of viridian trees, glistening with dew. It was a picturesque scene—the kind that Zed had only seen in brush paintings.

At first, Zed thought that she was speechless with joy... until she turned to them and blankly said:

"Um... Where's this thing you wanted to show me?"

To which he sent a very bewildered look at Shen, almost as if to say, _Don't girls like pretty things?_ To which Shen shrugged, almost as if to say, _Thought so, but I guess not._

"It's this place," Zed said, turning back to Akali. "Isn't it beautiful?" He faltered, seeing Akali's confused expression. "Shen found it a couple days ago. We thought you'd like to see it..."

"Oh," Akali said. "It's. Um. Nice?"

Zed sighed. "Nice."

"Well—it's very nice. But isn't it kind of... um... useless?"

Zed was beginning to wonder if he knew Akali at all. "Useless?"

"Well, you see," Akali said, "the lake is too deep to run across when being pursued, but too shallow to make a good obstacle; the trees are nice and tall for building structures or sending lookouts, but they're too flimsy; and the stones are too small to use as artillery, but too large for... well, anything else. Except carving weapons, maybe, but we use metal more than stone."

Zed looked at Shen. Shen looked at Zed.

"...Oh," they said in unison.

"So, thank you very much for showing me," Akali said, smiling with genuine appreciation, "but... I think I need to go back to the village. I'm supposed to spar with Kennen in a few minutes, and you know how he gets when he has to _wait_..."

And she was gone, before either Zed or Shen could say a word.

To say the least, that was the last time Shen and Zed ever tried to work together on anything.

::-::

**iii**

As years passed, where heights stretched and arms lengthened and there became a distinct difference between boys and girls, the friendship between Shen and Zed—once mutual, then tenuous after the disaster with Akali's surprise—soured into bitter rivalry.

Zed simply could not win against Shen. The iron will, the invincible clarity of mind—it came across in his every strike, every twitch of his finger. His special training and his meditation sessions made his skill unmatchable. Every duel was a loss, and with every loss came humiliation. That he could never beat Shen. That the Master always preferred Shen. That Akali always watched Shen.

It should come as a surprise to no one that the rivalry became personal.

Akali had, after all, accepted Zed and invited Shen; and for this, she held a special place in the hearts of both boys. Such matters did nothing but strain the already heated tension between them.

But the true balance of fate twisted on one seemingly innocuous day: A simple, casual conversation, on a large swath of fields some ways away from the village, beneath a wire of clouds swimming in the blue-grey sky.

"Why don't we just try some of the old techniques?"

A brief pause—thoughtful on Akali's end, disbelieving on Shen's.

"You mean, the Way of the Shadow?" Shen said.

Zed shrugged.

Shen shook his head. "The Way of the Shadow was locked away for a reason. It would ruin the balance of Valoran." His gaze turned sharp. "That Way can only corrupt, Zed."

Zed shrugged. "How do you know?" he muttered. "Have you used it?"

"Zed," Akali said, rather sharply. "Shen is right. That Way is best left alone."

Zed felt his face reddening. "As if slitting someone's throat is any more honorable," he said.

"It's not a question of honor," Shen said. "Releasing the Way of the Shadow will violate the balance between order and chaos. It is forbidden, because it can only bring destruction."

Zed frowned. "You are concerned about balance? Well, Akali's title shall be the Fist of Shadow. Does that mean that we must have a Fist of Light?"

"Zed!" Akali said, this time much more sharply.

Zed drew back, his gut sizzling with anger. Akali was taking Shen's side. _Everyone_ always took Shen's side.

"Shen has been trained to be the most sensitive of all the Kinkou when it comes to the balance of Valoran," Akali said. "We would do well to listen to him."

You _would do well to listen to him._

"Yes, I suppose all his sensitivity is dedicated to dictating balance, since he is too insensitive to make any friends," Zed muttered.

"What's that?" Akali said, eyes narrowing.

But Shen had heard. Although his shoulders were relaxed, his hands tightened into fists until his knuckles turned white.

"Nothing," Zed said, and turned back to watching the clouds.

He should feel happy. Ecstatic. That he could beat Shen in something. But instead, he only felt uneasy, like something between him and Akali had been broken.

::-::

**iv**

After that, Zed felt far from Akali.

Certainly, they still spent time together, along with Shen; but something had changed. He felt alone—like no one could relate to him—like no one could understand him. Akali and Shen, meanwhile, had gotten closer, although Zed could not see why.

Zed caught them talking many times, alone, in earnest conversation, and neither looked as if they missed him very much. It was jarring to see Akali's smile when she always appeared troubled around Zed. Shen, too, seemed much more relaxed; his posture was always loose, and his expressions were far more telling than they were around anyone else.

But, like a fool, Zed chose to ignore it... until they slapped him in the face with it.

It happened during sparring practice—a tradition among the three, although Akali would generally be the only one actually enjoying the proceedings. (Zed and Shen were always far too busy attempting to win. It was often observed that their duels felt more intense than if they had been in actual war.)

This particular match was between Akali and Shen. While most of the Order considered such matches to be the most interesting, Zed thought of them as the most boring. They spent long periods of time simply circling each other, staring, as if they could land a blow just by looking.

Finally, Shen had apparently found his opening, for all of a sudden he struck with vigor at Akali. But instead of attempting to dodge his attack, she dropped to the ground, thrusting her heel at Shen's shins.

_SLAM!_

The unexpected strike brought Shen down... right on her.

Zed's gut wrenched as the air became very, very quiet.

Akali was trapped against the ground, gazing up at Shen, who was no more than two handspans away, arms braced on either side of her head. They were frozen, as if statues, the atmosphere between them sizzling with tension. Green and iron-brown gazes, piercing through the thick fog of heavy breathing; the loud pounding of two hearts in perfect sync; the roiling heat radiating from them, due to exercise and maybe—maybe something else...

Then Shen rolled fluidly to the side and spun to his feet.

"That was... new," he said, and although his voice was placid and his face was masked, Zed could see the tension in his shoulders.

Akali struggled to master her expression, her jaw clenching with effort. "Ah. Yes. I saw my mother try it, once." She turned her head away. Zed did not miss the fierce tinge of red on her cheeks. "The result was—well, slightly different."

Shen's hands fisted behind his back. "It was a good effort." His voice was still calm. It was always calm. "Had I an actual sword, you would've been run through."

Akali, too, sounded placid. "Yes. I still must practice my technique."

She exited the dueling with grace, but the moment she was out of Shen's sight, she sank against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. Stomach sinking, Zed strode to her.

"Why?" he said.

She jumped to her feet, expression carefully blank. "I thought it would pull the battle in my favor."

"Not the kick." _What is it about him? Why do you not see me?_ "You are abashed."

Akali stiffened. "I am simply not used to being in such proximity with—with men."

_Yet now we are just as close as you were to Shen, and you have killed men who were even closer._ "He will only bring trouble," Zed warned.

Akali's head shot up unexpectedly, green eyes flaring in anger. "Trouble, you say?" she said coolly. "Enlighten me. He is just, he is kind, and he is a good friend."

She was blatantly ignoring what was obvious to both of them. "He can never love!" Zed growled.

Akali's eyes widened.

"He is to be the Eye of the Twilight. He is to make decisions without any prejudice. What if he must make a choice concerning a loved one? Surely emotions will cloud his judgment."

Akali's brow furrowed. "By that reasoning, he might as well not have any friends at all!" she hissed.

"Why do you think his father had him do nothing but meditate?!" Zed snapped back.

Stunned silence met his accusation.

Zed withdrew. "Akali, I only meant—"

She pushed past him and slipped out the door. He didn't see her expression. He didn't need to.

"You seemed to have upset her," Shen said, exiting from the dueling ring.

Zed whipped around, hands curling into fists. "Take off your mask," he growled.

Shen froze. "What?"

"Take off your mask!"

Shen slipped his two training swords on the bamboo rack at his side. "I don't see why such a thing would be important."

Zed reached to Shen's face. Shen calmly grabbed his wrist.

"I know how you feel," Zed seethed. "I know what you are thinking."

"How interesting," Shen said. "Since when have you been able to read minds?"

"Shen," Zed said, and he couldn't believe this, he was almost pleading—"Nothing good will come of loving Akali."

Shen did not even twitch. "That is an unusual thing to say."

"Do not deny it!" Zed roared. "I saw how you looked at her when—when _that_ happened!"

This time, he got a visible reaction. Shen suddenly drew forward, gripping Zed by the collar.

"And what would you have me do?" he said, the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I know. I know what I was brought up to be. I know what I am to do. I know that inner peace must be my first priority, outer harmony my second—but she—she—"

He released Zed as if he'd been burnt.

Such an emotional display had shocked Zed into silence—but after recovering, Zed felt almost _satisified_ that he could get such a reaction from the icy Eye of the Twilight.

"She invades your mind," Zed murmured. "Steals your gaze. Brightens the darkest of night."

Shen turned away, his walls returning. "I am sure it is merely a passing fancy. I will grow out of it soon."

They both knew that he was only trying to convince himself.

::-::

**v**

The day they truly turned against each other was the day of the Takanu.

No one was allowed to interact with Shen until he had finished his trial. He was to spend the day meditating alone, take part in the ceremony with only a select few in attendance, and leave quietly to recuperate. If he succeeded, evening festivities would commence and others were allowed to speak with him. If he failed—but Zed wouldn't even think about that, because he knew Shen would not fail. The man could be a machine when he so desired.

Indeed, Shen succeeded. And at the evening festivities, Akali was the first to speak with him, pulling Zed along with her.

"Congratulations, Shen," she said, her face lit up in a bright smile—the kind of smile Zed could never get out of her. "I look forward to working together."

Shen only nodded and breezed past her like she was a stranger.

Akali's smile quickly faded. Zed, beginning to feel the first thrums of anger, placed a firm hand on Shen's shoulder.

"Shen," he said. "Not even a word?"

"What is there to say?" Shen said.

Akali flinched, as if struck. Zed scanned Shen's face for any sign of emotion, however subtle—but it was completely blank. This was a different Shen than the one that had entered the Takanu.

"Shen," he said forcefully. "Don't make this unnecessarily hard."

Shen withdrew his shoulder from Zed's grip. "Take that advice unto yourself," he said passively.

The anger in Zed's gut flared. He felt his fingers instinctively pull into fists—but Akali laid a gentle hand on his forearm.

"It's alright, Zed," she said. "I am sorry to bother you, Shen. I wish you the best."

And she strode away, gracefully, elegantly, like she'd never been hurt. But Zed would not stand for Shen's behavior. Perhaps _he_ didn't need a word from Shen, but _Akali_? Akali was Shen's best friend, probably his _only_ friend, and she deserved more than a brush off; she deserved more than a cold greeting; she deserved more than _Shen..._

"Come with me," Zed said. "It will take but a moment."

"You should be enjoying the festivities," was all Shen said.

Zed gritted his teeth. "If you care about Akali at _all_, you will come with me," he hissed, and spun around, melting into the forest.

Shen was still, and for a terrifying moment, Zed thought that he wouldn't come; but after a short pause, he followed Zed into a grove—_their_ grove, the grove they had showed Akali.

"You may want to be quick," Shen said, keeping his eyes on Zed. "I hear that the food is to be particularly fine this evening."

Zed snorted. "As if either of us care about the food." He wheeled around. "What happened at the Takanu, Shen? What would make you toss Akali away as if—as if she were garbage?"

"I did no such thing," Shen said, his voice still neutral.

"You might as well have," Zed accused. "You treated her like a stranger. Surely you know that your openness is one of the most important things to Akali!"

A very, very brief—barely noticeable—look of surprise flitted across Shen's face. If Zed had not keenly trained himself to see such subtle expressions, he would have missed it.

"I was not aware," Shen said, recovering quickly.

"Well, _be_ more aware," Zed said. "Isn't that what your job is supposed to be about?"

Shen stiffened. "I am to focus on the balance of Valoran," he said. "To bring judgements with the utmost precision, I must not allow emotion to cloud my process of thought."

"So, basically, you shall have the emotional capacity of a rock," Zed drawled. "And you shall do nothing for those closest to you but hurt them with your indifference."

"If that really is the case, then Akali should know already!" Shen said, his voice rising for the first time in a very long time.

"Akali does know, and yet she continues to demonstrate kindness!"

"Then she should not associate with me!"

"But that isn't your true wish, is it?"

Shen was still, but his eyes were bright with alarm.

Zed felt the corner of his mouth pull into a grim smile. "You wish to be close to her. To confide in her. To... love her."

"...As do you," Shen said.

"I wish for her happiness," Zed said evasively. He cast Shen a dark look. "Apparently, you do not."

"I do not have the freedom for such trivial sentiments."

_And yet, you say this as if uttering every word gives you physical pain._

A single horn rang into the night. Shen's expression resumed its original neutrality, almost as if a curtain had fallen over his face.

"Let us return to the festivities," he said, turning his back to Zed.

Zed's fingers curled in the hem of his shirt. "So, you forfeit."

Shen didn't miss a beat. "There is nothing to forfeit."

Zed sneered. "I am glad you think that way. Because Akali should not love a coward who will not face his true emotions."

Shen's shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second before they forcibly relaxed. "Think what you will," he said, and left Zed alone in the grove, seething with anger.

::-::

**vi**

The relationship between Shen and Akali became strained after that day. While they worked together well, they were unusually distant when they interacted outside of their duties. They, along with Kennen, were the pride of the Kinkou—the strongest Triumvirate to ever exist—but to each other, they were aloof and withdrawn.

However, as time passed, their relationship became strange and indefinable. Cold behavior melted into gentle teasing. Whenever they spoke with each other, their faces were placid, but the air between them was tense with underlying affection. Zed saw the signs and knew what it was—but he would not—no, _could_ not—acknowledge it.

It did not matter. On the Spring Festival of the year Akali became eligible for marriage, everything changed.

She was left alone, unlike the other women in her village. She was beautiful, she was just, but no man wished to touch the Fist of Shadow. It was a prestigious position, yet alienating—who wished to marry a woman that must always be on the move, that may die at any moment of any day?

Thus she sat alone beneath the growing blossoms, scrubbed and primped and dolled up, watching the merry courtship dances below with an empty look in her eyes. Just as Zed had found her—and it had taken quite some time, for when Akali wished to stay hidden, she was nearly impossible to find—a voice interrupted his entrance.

"You are not dancing?"

Shen called out to her from the edge of the meditating grove, a large staff in his hand. Zed did not miss the soft look in his eyes as he examined Akali from braided head to sandaled toe. She was truly beautiful this evening, although she did not even seem to know it.

"No one would have me," Akali said placidly. She gestured to the space beside her, but Shen remained standing from a distance.

"You would not be happy with an ordinary man," Shen said—lightly? He never spoke lightly—"They would have you do nothing but tedious drudgery."

"That isn't true," Akali said, just as lightly. "I'm sure I would find someone who understands the importance of my duty." She gestured next to her, again. "Please, sit."

This time, Shen did—but farther away then she'd meant.

"You are not dancing either," Akali commented.

"My father would have me meditate," Shen said. "It is little use for the Eye of the Twilight to be attending courtship dances, anyway."

Akali flinched. "Ah. Yes."

Zed wanted nothing more than to interrupt them. Second to that, he wanted nothing more than to leave. He should have done one of the two—eavesdropping on allies was dishonorable, and Akali deserved her privacy (even if Shen did not). And yet... Zed couldn't find it in him to turn away. His eyes were glued on the scene in front of him, as much as it pained him.

"I have upset you," Shen said. Calmly. Placidly. But Zed could see the fingers of his right hand—the hand Akali could not see—curling in to a fist.

Akali paused, gently twisting her hands in her skirt. "Ah, well—I suppose we are of the same situation. No one wants to dance with the Fist of the Shadow, either."

"Akali," Shen said, and Akali's head jerked up. "You are certain to find a good man."

Zed clenched his fist until his nails bit into his palms and his knuckles were white.

"Yes. I'm sure the men of the village agree with you," Akali said, gesturing wryly at the festivities below.

They entered a comfortable silence; tinged with regret, but comfortable. Both had been picked for positions of great power, but great responsibility, and found themselves alone.

"Do you have a fan with you?" Shen said presently.

Akali eyed him, eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "Yes," she said.

"Hold it out," Shen said.

She did. Shen gently touched the end before slipping his arm around it, his hand ghosting over hers.

Zed's heart dropped to his stomach. That was the beginning of the Spring Fan Dance—the most intimate of the courtship dances, usually played at the end of the night before a man formally requested a woman's heart.

And Shen was about to do it... with Akali.

She seemed just as surprised as Zed—eyes wide, back rigid—but then proceeded, bowing to Shen in acknowledgement. He withdrew his arm, gently wrapping his fingers around the end of her fan.

Then they danced.

As loathe as Zed was to admit it, they were truly mesmerizing. The Spring Fan Dance was meant to be beautiful, showcasing the grace of the woman and the power of the man—but it took skill and constant practice to perfect. Yet the ease in which they stepped made it seem as if they'd been born to dance.

They spun, and crickets fell silent. They dipped, and the trees sighed. And when they ended, face-to-face, the opened fan the only obstacle between them, the world held its breath.

For a long moment they stayed like that, frozen, gazing into each other's eyes like they were lost in time. Shen's hand rose, almost as if of its own accord, and flitted across Akali's cheek. She leaned ever so slightly into his palm, eyes fluttering shut, a small sigh escaping from her lips. Shen stiffened, almost as if he hadn't expected such a reaction—as if he didn't know the effect he had on Akali, the effect Zed would never have...

"Akali," he murmured.

The spell broke.

Akali drew back, eyes lowered to the ground. "Yes," she said. "I know. You cannot let emotions compromise your judgement."

Shen froze, a flicker of pain crossing his face. It appeared as if he hadn't wanted to say that at all.

"I know what my place is," Akali said, the slightest hint of bitterness crossing her voice. "Thank you for the dance, Shen. Goodbye."

But she'd scarcely taken a step before Shen reached out, gripping her by the shoulder. She froze beneath his touch.

"Stop," he said, breath ragged.

Then, slowly, as if he were moving underwater, he slipped one arm around her waist, gently tugging her to his chest.

"Please," Shen breathed.

Akali stiffened with shock, cheeks flushing at his proximity. "Shen…"

Sooner or later, he would come to his senses. Sooner or later, he would let go.

But he did not.

A long spell of silence fell over them before Akali's presence of mind seemed to return. "The Takanu," she murmured.

Shen's arms tightened. "What about it?"

"What happened at the Takanu?" Akali brushed her hand over Shen's. "Why would you become so distant?"

A long moment passed before Shen replied. "It was impressed upon me that—that to become the true Eye of the Twilight, I must rid myself of all compassion for any race, gender, or type of creature."

"So the Eye of the Twilight must never have any friends or feel any semblance of affection?"

Shen began to pull his arm back, but Akali grasped it.

"Shen. Please, listen. How can one judge accordingly when they do not understand the culture, the emotions, the true intentions of those involved? If a young child took a loaf of bread without knowing he was stealing, would you make the same ruling as if he were a seasoned thief?"

A long breath pulled from Shen's mouth, as if he had finally been told what he believed to be true all along.

"Isn't it said that the Eye of Twilight must not only be balanced, but wise beyond compare?" Akali continued. "And how can one be wise if they have no experience?"

A ghost of a smile passed Shen's lips. "So I thought, but my father dismissed such reasoning." His gaze fixed on Akali, strangely intense. "He also dismissed the fact that many of the previous Eyes were married."

"Precisely," Akali said firmly. Then her eyes widened. "Oh," she mumbled, a fierce blush covering her cheeks.

Shen gently turned her around until they were standing face-to-face. "Akali," he whispered. "I do not know if it is within my right to ask this of you... But would you consider allowing me to court you?"

Akali's breath caught—a fragile sound in the stillness of the night.

"I have always—always thought fondly of you," he said, and for the first time, he sounded uncertain of himself. "You have understood me, even through my many mistakes. And you are intelligent, wise, beautiful... I am certain that you would not be a hindrance to my duty, as many might believe; but that you would be my greatest support. I... I do not have much to offer you, and at times I may appear uncaring and cold, but—"

Akali gently touched his lips, silencing him. She was smiling—smiling brighter than the stars, than the moon, brighter than the sun itself.

"I am delighted that you asked," she whispered, twining her fingers with his.

"Is that—a yes?" Shen said.

Akali laughed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "Yes!"

It was a lovely scene—Akali smiling, _Shen_ smiling, the moon smiling down upon them—but Zed could feel nothing but an overwhelming emptiness in his spirit. Neither sorrow not anger existed within him; only a deep, yawning chasm in which everything fell to destruction.

_Zed._

He turned. There was no one.

_Come, Zed. Your destiny awaits._

On a different day, Zed would have merely rolled his eyes and walked away—but this day, he was willing to listen to anyone, _anything_.

_Lead me,_ he said, and the shadows led him, through the forest, up the winding path, to the temple.

And the rest—so they say—is history.

::-::

**vii**

Utter destruction. That was all that was around Zed—utter destruction.

Blazing houses. Barren soil. Screams of fleeing women; tortured cries of men in agony.

Zed felt nothing.

He headed straight for the temple, cutting down anything in his way—warrior, student, or child. As long as he got the box, it would be alright. As long as he got the box, it would be worth it.

_You are almost there,_ the shadows whispered gleefully. _After all these years, you will finally reach your goal._

A dark smile crossed Zed's lips as he warped through the last warrior in his way, cutting him down with uncanny ease.

"Zed."

It was Shen, planted at the entrance of the temple, immovable as stone. The swords in his hands were already coated with blood.

Zed tilted his head. "Oh? I thought you would have surrendered by now."

"I will not allow you to pass!" Shen said.

Zed extended his arms as if in welcome. "Don't you see how your pride is harming your people? This is not a battle you can win, Shen. Give up the box and leave before the Kinkou is eliminated."

Shen's grip on his swords tightened, but he didn't budge.

Zed grimaced. "Very well, then," he said, and flew at Shen with the shadows aiding his speed.

Shen could not fight him. He was too fast, too unpredictable; the most Shen could do was block his attacks, and even that took every ounce of his concentration. Zed toyed with him for a few moments, relishing his advantage.

"The Order is hopeless, Shen," he said. "Full of stiff traditionalists and uptight hypocrites. How have you found your marriage life, hmm? Not full of newlywed bliss, I wager!"

Shen struck at him. He easily melted through the sword. "Leave Akali out of this!"

"Embrace the new Order, Shen! The Way of the Shadows is far more powerful than anything you can imagine!" Zed bolted through Shen, striking at his back; Shen wheeled around, barely able to defend himself in time.

"It is corrupt, Zed, and forbidden for a reason. Turn back to the Way of Balance before it swallows you whole!"

Zed barked in laughter. "You sound just like your father," he said.

"I do not consider that an insult." Shen circled around Zed, gaze wary.

"How touching." Zed lunged at him. "Perhaps I should send you to the same place I sent him!"

Shen raised his swords, but Zed slipped through the shadows until he was behind Shen. He struck for what he knew would be the fatal blow.

_CLANG!_

His blade was knocked aside by a single kama.

Akali dropped from the roof, her gaze blazing. "Shen," she said. "Get as many people out of here as you can. I will face Zed."

Shen looked up at her, and their eyes met. There was a moment of silence where neither moved, neither spoke—and yet they appeared to understand what the other was trying to say. Finally, Shen nodded and bolted towards the village.

"Akali," Zed said. This person, he was much more reluctant to fight.

Akali whipped past him, retrieving her kama. "Zed," she said. "It does not bring me pleasure to fight you."

"Then don't," Zed responded, lowering his blades.

She fixed him with a level stare. "My reluctance will not stop me from killing you if I must."

Zed fingered his blades. Even after all his years in exile, he had never forgotten Akali. How could he raise his weapons against her when she had been his only true friend?

_The box!_ the shadows shrieked into his mind.

Zed gritted his teeth and leapt at her. She slid to the side, kamas crossed defensively.

"Look around you, Zed," she called. "Do you not feel the weight of what you have done? Hear the cries of the innocent and come to your senses! You are not the kind of man to make a ruthless villain!"

Zed blinked next to her, slashing her across her forearm. "What do you know about me?" he hissed. "What does anyone know about me? The Zed that you know is a dead man. He cannot be brought back."

He thrust his blade out. She nimbly rolled to the side.

"If you insist as such, then I must kill you," she said solemnly.

Zed almost laughed. "Kill me? You can't kill me. No one can kill me! With the box, I shall be unbeatable!"

A strange look flitted over Akali's face. Was that... pity? "You fail to see what is truly important."

"And what would that be?" Zed felt his lips curl in a sneer. "Balance? Logic? Oh—let us not forget indifference and lack of emotion!"

"No," Akali said. "Companionship. Trust. Intimacy."

Zed growled, flitting past her. She whirled around, blocking his strike at her back.

"You lie!" he said. "Look around you, Akali! This is what companionship, trust, and intimacy has brought your village!"

Akali glanced at the burning ruins that was once her home—then turned to him, gaze steady. "And this is what the lack of it has brought you," she said softly.

Zed swiped his blades at her, feeling an inhuman screech tear from his throat. "Don't talk like you know anything about me!"

Akali flipped backward. She was silent, but the look in her eyes was clear: She knew more about him than he himself.

Zed's mind dissipated into a red haze; he vaguely felt himself strike viciously at her. One of his blades caught her kama, wrenching it out of her hand. Her other kama followed shortly thereafter. She could not compete with the shadows. No one could.

"Where is your companionship now?" Zed sneered, circling her. She was unarmed. Helpless. An easy kill.

Akali said nothing, only continuing to fix him with her gaze. He drew his blade back; the shadows urged him to plunge it into her heart.

He could not do it.

The tip of his weapon shook before her chest and he fought to drive it through—but could not bring himself to do such.

Companionship. Trust. Intimacy.

He had not felt those things since he had been driven from the Kinkou. And when had he last laughed out of genuine pleasure? He could not even begin to remember.

_Do not listen!_ the shadows screamed. _Friends? They will betray you. Happiness? It is fleeting. Power is the only thing that will satisfy you!_

Zed squeezed his eyes shut and whipped his blades at Akali's head, hitting her temple squarely with the blunt side. She crumpled to the ground.

Why? Why did she try to fight him, alone? Why did she have Shen leave? Even with the shadows on his side, Zed was certain that he wouldn't have been able to fight the two of them, especially with their amount of experience and level of teamwork. Yet Akali had seemed to want to fight him alone...

Zed's eyes wandered. He saw Kennen fell one of his followers before leading a family to safety. He saw Rena and Faren and Telia, whom he had played with as a boy, rescuing a group of children from a blazing building. He saw a defenseless woman killed, a young man gutted, and their baby mercilessly slaughtered.

When he was a boy, he wanted to rescue people from such atrocities. Instead, he was inflicting others.

And for the first time in many, many years, Zed doubted himself.

_Silence your foolish thoughts!_ the shadows shrieked._ Focus on what is truly important!_

Zed's wandering gaze landed on Shen, who had just returned. Shen, seeing Akali's still body, froze.

"She is not dead," Zed called, feeling a strange need to explain himself. "Take her."

He expected to see anger, or sadness, or _something_ on Shen's face—but Shen's placid expression did not change. He only turned away, racing off to aid a couple and their children... leaving Akali behind.

_This_ was what Akali had chosen? _This_ was what she had fallen for? A man who did not even bother to help her?

Would Shen had acted any differently if she had been dead?

Zed growled, slashing his blades against the ground. Akali believed in companionship, trust, intimacy—and look at all the good it did her. She was unconscious, wounded, and abandoned by all her 'friends.'

The shadows were right. Power was the only thing that would not betray him.

Dark whispers overcame Zed's mind. He felt his body moving, walking someplace, without him telling it to. He watched through his last sliver of consciousness as he melted into the forest and made his way through the trees.

Finally, Zed's feet stopped.

Ah; the grove. The beautiful, peaceful grove, with bright sunlight, crystal waters, vibrant trees.

The grove that marked the point where he had lost Shen. The grove that marked the point where he had lost Akali.

Once special. Now cursed.

_Set it ablaze,_ the shadows whispered. _That part of your life is dead._

Zed flicked his fingers. Dark fire engulfed the edge of his blades. He brushed his knuckles against the ground, and the fire swept across the grass, skimming over the surface of the lake. He stepped back, watching as the grove was engulfed in flames. He felt no remorse, nor nostalgia; only soothing nothingness.

He vaguely heard the village bell toll in the distance. The Kinkou had dispersed; the battle had been won. Zed turned and melted into the shadows.


End file.
